


Resilience

by TK_DuVeraun



Series: Splintered Legacies [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Drama, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Plot, Rating-Consistent Gore, Rating-Consistent Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: It doesn't have to end like this. Morathis might be dying, but that might be just what Fox needs to live on.---AU & POV swap ofMorning Comes. It is required reading for context.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, Legacies and the associated stories and AUs are a mess. I know that. If you've made it this far, you know that. [This is a tumblr post with a SLIGHT untangling](https://tk-duveraun.tumblr.com/post/171858152164/legacies-explanation-thing) of the timeline and premise, but if you haven't read Legacies, it's just name spaghetti.
> 
> If you haven't read everything else and you're very confused, but for some reason still interested, thank you and I hope you enjoy the drama.

There are forty stone steps between the main hall and Fox’s lab. Each one is eighteen centimeters tall. Rathi counts each jerk and jolt in the slaves’ movements as they go down because it’s easier than trying to see how much further it is. He’s not in pain, not really. Not at all from the waist down, though he’s been trying to ignore that. The wounds in his chest are just pockets of cold. Stabbed with his own cursed knife. He should have expected it.

Forty steps completed, then Rathi hears the familiar screech from the durasteel latch on the lab door. His arms ache, a little, from being suspended between the two, but even that feeling is dulled from blood loss. Not too much blood loss. Two liters, at most. Sybil wanted him delivered alive, after all.

“Give Sybil my thanks,” Faximil says and  _ that _ hurts because he sounds so very much like Fox.

Rathi starts to open his eyes when the slaves simply release his arms and he crumples to the floor and gives sight up as a loss. The stone is almost as cold as his cursed wounds. He hears the footsteps retreating up the stairs and braces himself for however Faximil’s going to kill him. There’s no crackle of Force energy, no hiss of plasma, not even the quiet  _ snickt _ of a ritual knife pulled from its sheath.

There’s no feeling of blood trickling from his wounds, but Rathi can feel the weakness in himself. He doesn’t have much time left. If Faximil won’t do what’s necessary, he’ll do it himself. He gropes at the stone floor for some divot to get a grip on and then digs his fingers in as hard as he can and  _ pulls. _ His body barely moves, but he is slightly closer to the ritual circle. The glow from the lines permeates even his closed eyelids.

“What is it you think you’re doing?” Faximil asks. His voice now has a dangerous edge, the threatening Sith oiliness that keeps it from sounding like Fox’s.

“You’re using me. No matter what you want. You’ve taken my agency so many times; it’s time I took yours,” Rathi says. At least, he tries to. It sounds correct in his own head, but he feels unnatural bubbling in his throat and chest and the sound of his dagger scraping against the stone is sharp enough to be painful. It doesn’t matter if Faximil hears him. Fox can’t, so there’s no point. He pulls himself closer to the circle.

A cascade of tink-tink-tink sounds makes Rathi stop moving. That and the weakness. He wants to turn his head and look, but he’s not sure he has the energy to turn  _ and _ look.

There’s a fwump of fabric and a thud that sounds like Faximil falling to his knees, though Rathi can’t imagine why. After a moment, Rathi feels warm hands on his cheeks, turning his head around. He struggles to open his eyes and regrets it as soon as he can see. Fox is staring at him, stricken and with tears his in eyes that haven’t been this blue for months. “Fox, no.”

Fox shakes his head and lets the tears fall. “No, Rathi. I’m not letting you die. Not now and especially not for me.”

Weakness claws at Rathi, but he fights it, digs his fingers into the stone and tries to pull himself forward. Fox holds him still. It’s several, stilted breaths before Rathi can speak after the attempt. “It’s not your choice. I’m mortally wounded. Just let me…”

“It’s not about choice,  _ cyare. _ She already took the power from wounding you, there’s no way for me to use it. And as you are… Like this… If you  _ want _ to die for me, it won’t give me enough power to turn off the light.”

Despair tightens the vice the wounds already have around Rathi’s heart. The fight drains out of him and he would be flat on the floor if Fox hadn’t gently pulled him into his lap. Fox’s fingers are like fire as they wipe the blood away from Rathi’s mouth. He doesn’t have the strength to keep his eyes open, so Rathi loses sight of Fox’s heart breaking on his face. 

“I’m sorry, Rathi. I’m so sorry,” Fox sobs. He presses his forehead to Rathi’s. “I never should have let this happen. I should have pushed you away. I knew she’d do this.”

Rathi can’t lift his hand to touch Fox’s face, to reassure him, but he  _ wants _ to. He wants it so dearly. “Maybe… It’s better this way. I may have made you… Better me than you.”

“No, no, it’s not,” Fox whispers. 

Rathi doesn’t feel any weaker, but he knows time is passing. The macabre drip-drip of Fox’s blood permeates everything so deeply, it feels like his very uniform is throbbing with it. Sacrificing what little life he had left had given him strength, purpose to persist despite the weakness. Now, wrapped up in Fox’s warmth like he’s sitting in the sun, now he just wants to sleep. His body might not hurt, but his heart does and he wants it to stop.

“I love you, Rathi. I promised I wouldn’t let her hurt you and… and I was so focused on  _ me _ that she…”

“I’m going to sleep, now. I love you, dear heart,” Rathi says. The endearment is nearly lost in the gurgle in his throat, even to his own ears.

“Rest,  _ cyare. _ I’ll make it right. When you wake up, everything will be as it should,” Fox says. Gently, he lays Rathi on the floor.

Rathi can hear the shredding of his uniform more than he can feel it. He wants to tell Fox it’s not worth the bother, but he’s not sure how many words he has left and the romantic heart Fox planted in his chest rather likes his last words being ones of love. Death always seemed so quick with his own hand on the dagger. It’s not fair that his has to be so slow.

Distantly, Rathi feels Fox’s hands on his chest in fits and spurts. At first, he thinks his lover’s hands are shaking, but eventually it dawns on him that he simply has no sensation in his cursed flesh. He wishes Fox wouldn’t torture himself this way. Where is Mardh? He should be down here, wrapping Rathi in a sheet so Fox can’t see the damage. Mardh owes them both enough to pull the trigger and just end it, come to that.

Suddenly, a scream rips itself out of Rathi’s chest with such violence that Rathi’s torso jerks off of the floor. He immediately falls back, though Fox catches him and sets him back down with deliberate slowness.

“I know it hurts now. I’m sorry. It’s the only way,” Fox says. The stream of apologies is endless and soothes the edge of the pain.

Rathi wants to ask what Fox means, what he’s doing, but before he can push words past the pain and the weakness, another wound comes to life. He thinks he blacks out from the pain, but with his eyes already shut and his body already quivering in agony, he can’t be sure. There’s a quiet  _ tink _ of crystal on stone and Rathi thinks he knows what’s happening.

The cursed knife did…  _ something _ that blocked the Force. It made the flesh cold and… technically alive, blood still flowed through it, but dead to feeling and energy. Fox is trying to counter its effects with Force crystals. Rathi wants to take his lovers hands, to make him stop the helpless endeavor, but his body isn’t responding anymore. If not for the pain, he’d think everything was as cut off as his legs.

Fox jams another crystal into another wound, still sobbing out apologies. He’s using that unsettling technique to chant spells and speak normally at once and it makes the words nearly incomprehensible, but the pleas for forgiveness are clear.

Three crystals later, Rathi prays Fox has finally given up. He feels no stronger for the Force crystals lodged in his chest and the cursed blade itself is still next to his heart. Fox lifts him with impossible tenderness. Hope that Fox will let him go flares until he’s lowered again. His eyes are closed, but the blight glow from the ritual circle and its runes cuts under his lids. Rathi hears Fox shuffle around and the sharp biting screech of chalk on stone before the uncomfortable slither of blood being painted over the markings.

_ No. No, you can’t do this. You can’t reverse the flame-streaked ritual, Sa’alle, that’s our only chance! _ Rathi thinks, unable to speak.

But Fox answers him, regardless. “Either you live, or we both die. She wants my power? She can have whatever’s left.”

The words hang in the lab’s stale, copper-scented air for a only a moment before there’s an explosion of light and power that knocks Rathi unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when you wake up to a world that's not falling apart?

Medical machines never sounded so awful as they do in this moment. The quiet whirring and beeping will haunt Rathi for the rest of his life. Which he still has. Which he is currently living. Which no longer has Fox. He doesn’t open his eyes, but it doesn’t matter, the tears still come, silently streaking down the sides of his face. His heart is tearing itself out of his chest. Rathi tries to roll over to press his face into the pillow, but his legs  _ still don’t fucking work. _

With a wordless shout, Rathi throws his torso as hard as he can to the side. He goes right over the edge of the medical cot and lands with a crash on the tile as the cables and tubes attaching him to the machines fall with him. He presses his forehead into both fists and sobs, loud wounded cries that rip themselves from his throat until he’s gasping in between them.

“I told you we couldn’t keep him in here!” Mardh bellows. He thinks it’s Mardh, anyway. Rathi’s never heard him shout before, but he doesn’t care enough to examine the voice too closely.

“Rathi!” 

That voice is Tava, definitely. Rathi doesn’t lift his head. Doesn’t move at all as Tava runs in and holds him. His sobs still to quiet crying and he’s a little more aware of what’s going on. Mardh is still shouting at the staff, Tava is rambling about how glad he is Rathi’s awake, and there’s a doctor shouting back at Mardh. Two nurses are trying to lift Rathi off of the floor, but despite his residual weakness, he’s fighting them off with sharp elbow jabs.

“I said put him in the  _ fucking _ wheelchair and I won’t say it again. For all intents and purposes, I am your fucking  _ God _ right now, so get to it sharpish!”

Two more nurses grab hold of Rathi’s arms and the four of them wrestle him into a wheelchair. Rathi opens his wet eyes and snarls at them even as he watches the doctor, a old zabrak man, bent nearly double with age, stand up to the furious Imperial.

“Arimo could die just getting close to the quarantine room. He shouldn’t be alive now! He shouldn’t be breathing, let alone  _ this _ ruckus!” The doctor waves both of his arms to encapsulate how the entire ward is up in arms.

Mardh is not a tall man, certainly not in his uniform, flat-soled shoes, but he towers over everyone else. His face is twisted in anger and his presence is oppressive enough to rival most of Oct’s parlor tricks. He jabs one finger into the doctor’s chest. “The Force is keeping him alive. And the Force is powered by will. And if he loses his will, he loses his life. We are going to risk  _ possible _ death to avoid  _ inevitable _ death, now get out of my fucking way!”

Rathi looks at Tava, his baby brother now nearly an adult, but Tava’s face shows only worry. He doesn’t seem to even have been following the argument, though how he could avoid it, Rathi doesn’t know. 

“I know you’re not alright, but I’m glad you’re awake,” Tava says as the nursing staff finish attaching Rathi to mobile monitors and back away to avoid Mardh’s wrath.

“I’m not,” Rathi says. He knows he should feel guilty for the terrible look that puts on his brother’s face, but he doesn’t care. He didn’t want to wake up. He wanted Fox to be the one that kept waking up. He puts his face in his hands.

Mardh snaps his fingers impossibly loudly. “Tava, after me.”

Tava nods and then walks behind Rathi to start pushing the chair. Despite the staff’s capitulation to putting Rathi  _ in _ the wheelchair, they’re seemingly unwilling to take Rathi to quarantine. Tava leans forward so he can speak quietly while he pushes. “You were in a kolto tank for two weeks. They can make you walk again easily, but they wanted to ask how you wanted them to do it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rathi says.

“It might.” Tava sighs. “Eventually. Hopefully.”

“I don’t  _ care _ about revenge. He wouldn’t want me to kill his sister, no matter what she did to us.” Rathi looks down at his chest, mostly because he can’t be bothered to lift his head. His hospital gown is torn and skewed, leaving most of his chest bare. While his skin has always been dark blue, it’s now covered with black swatches from the cursed knife. In the center of each patch is a bright, red crystal fused unnaturally with his skin.

He pokes at one of the crystals with morbid curiosity. His finger feels warm, smooth crystal, but the sensation in his chest is odd for how normal it is. The crystal is  _ somehow _ sending signals to his nervous system as if it were fragile skin. Experimentally, he scratches at the smooth surface, only to flinch at the sting. He drops his hands into his lap.

“Rathi…” Tava starts once they get into a lift. 

Mardh is still with them, Rathi can see the sharp line of his uniform jacket, but he’s silent and probably still fuming. 

When Rathi doesn’t acknowledge him, Tava sighs and says, “Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”

“Quarantine,” Rathi says, barely suppressing his desire to simply say “no.”

“Right, but-”

“Tava. Don’t get his hopes up. We don’t know what’s really in there,” Mardh says. His voice is no longer angry, but nor has it returned to his usual calm. It’s cold,  _ dead, _ and harsh in a way Rathi thought only Chiss and Afflicted were capable of.

Tava sighs again and simply squeezes Rathi’s shoulder.

Part of Rathi wants to be curious about what’s in quarantine. The obvious answer is Fox, in some terrible state. He’d never explained what the Sa’alle ritual would do, only that it would take his Life Force. The doctors on Olkin II, what with their Force gifts, may well have been able to salvage his husk of a body and keep it in stasis. That would sufficiently explain Mardh’s comments.

Rathi doesn’t particularly want to see his lover’s body artificially sustained by machines or more Force crystals, but he doesn’t care enough to voice his opinion. He stays silent when the lift reaches the right floor and just stares at his hands as his brother wheels him forward. There’s the sound of two heavy doors sliding open, but Tava hesitates to push him through.

“Is Doctor Jevos right? Could going in kill him?” Tava asks.

“Every second passing could kill your brother. He shouldn’t be alive at all. My assessment of his condition is that he’s in greater danger of dying from lack of will to live.”

Tava’s only response is to push the chair into the airlock. The doors close behind them and then a second set open. Tava pushes Rathi forward.

In the edge of his vision, Rathi can see he’s in front of a kolto tank. That’s better than some arcane sigil suspending him unnaturally in the air, at least. Rathi closes his eyes, tilts his head up and then opens them.

The body looks… fine. Far better than it would have if Fox had dropped his illusions at all in the last few months. The thin, red, cursed scar on his chest looks active, but that could mean anything or nothing. The shreds of Rathi’s heart don’t hurt any less, certainly. He lowers his gaze and then closes his eyes on the fresh tears. “What kind of quarantine is this, anyway?”

“Force quarantine. The walls are layered with cortosis weave and the best facsimile of Mandalorian iron we can make. If you were being kept alive by… ambient Force power or some outside party, you would have died once the seal closed behind us.”

“I see,” Rathi says. He gestures at the tank. “Why… bother?”

Mardh doesn’t answer for a long time. “He was alive when I found you. Dying of… exhaustion, dehydration, starvation, it seemed like everything at once. He apologized before he passed out. I got him here before Sybil performed her ritual… But even if that did nothing, I may have been too late. I’m glad you were spared seeing him like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Tava says.

Rathi just shakes his head and lets the tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought it would be out of character for Morathis, even in this state, to be surprised by Fox's... state.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I got sick and then I was busy and forgot the next day ;~; 
> 
> Enjoy!

Rain pours out of the sky over Olkin II, as if the world itself is mourning Fox. Certainly all of the residents are. They were told that his fate is uncertain, but they still speak in hushed tones and walk around with thin lips and wet eyes. Twenty people have approached Rathi with hesitant steps and lowered gazes. He wishes they wouldn’t.

He wishes a lot of things as he stands in Fox’s place in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in their flat. All of the fingers on his right hand are touching the glass and Rathi just stares out at nothing. Peace doesn’t come to him, the way it did to Fox, but standing there makes Rathi feel closer to him. He can understand how it helped, even if the view gives him nothing.

“Arimo,” Oct says from behind him.

Rathi turns his head, but not enough to see the Sith. “Aucht.”

“I have a plan,” Oct says as he walks over to stand beside Rathi. Under normal circumstances, the Sith would have layers of illusions in place to make himself seem taller and more imposing, but either out of grief or respect, Oct appears as his normal, short self.

“By all accounts, you have a lot of plans.” Rathi pauses and sighs. “Nevermind. What plan?”

“ _If_ he’s still in there, as soon as he’s conscious, his neck is back under Sybil’s blade. His blood calls to her; Force quarantine isn’t enough.”

Rathi pulls away from the window and nods at Oct. If Force quarantine was enough, Fox could have just hidden forever. “He wouldn’t agree to sacrifices before. I can’t imagine anything’s changed.”

“You nearly died.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Oct’s face before his scowl returns. “Yes, I agree. He once told me about an amulet that could contain Force energy for later use. I researched it after the body was put in the tank here. It seems they used to be quite popular. They can somewhat mitigate the corruption effects.”

Rain continues to pound on the window as Rathi considers this. “His problem was morals, not corruption, not really. So I can only assume that this amulet will work if _you_ do the killings.”

“There are some slaving operations I’ve been meaning to dismantle.”

Rathi lifts an eyebrow. “Then what do you need me for?”

“The ritual. The circle in the manor is gone. The entire _lab_ is gone. He sapped the Force out of the ancient wards and the very foundations. She’ll feel him the moment he comes back to himself, we can’t waste time bullying him into creating the circle.”

With a frown, Rathi turns back to the window. “I understand. You have my consent. Take it from my memories.”

“I can’t. The protections he put on your mind are sustained by your own Life Force. “

“And breaking them would kill me. Of course.” Rathi rubs his temples. “But I’m not Afflicted. I can’t make it.”

“You can draw it well-enough. I’ll do the initial enchantments and we’ll just have to trust he can fix any mistakes in time.”

Rathi smiles, just the smallest hint of amusement on his face. “I could barely trust him to get up in the morning.”

\---

The circle is drawn only in green chalk and completely lifeless. It takes up most of the floor in the quarantine room. Rathi draws it in the glow from the kolto tank with Fox’s body. It’s a terrible, macabre thing, especially since Rathi dimmed the overhead lights, but he doesn’t particularly care what anyone else thinks of what he’s doing.

The ritual can’t be done anywhere else, according to Oct. Since Fox would have to act on his own blood, doing it inside the quarantine room is safer. He doesn’t look up when Tava walks in.

“Well it certainly looks… Sinister enough,” Tava says. He’s standing near the far end of the circle and rubbing the back of his neck.

“It should. We got it from a spirit of one of his ancient ancestors that was a rather evil ghost.” Rathi leans back on his haunches and shuffles to the side to look at the circle from a different angle. He’s nearly done, at least with as much as he remembers. Fox may well have made modifications during the six days he was gone.

“If he’s… Not in there, will you be okay?”

“No.”

“Will you be… worse?”

“Tava, I’m doing this for something to do. Fox is dead. He worked himself to the bone and ripped those out to prop me up. He had nothing left and gave it to me anyway. He’d best not be in there because if he is, I’ll kill him myself.”

Tava chuckles, though it’s strained and echoes oddly in the room. “I hope he is in there. He makes you so happy.”

“He’s suitable,” Rathi says. His cheeks hurt from the first real smile after so long, so he doesn’t let it last.

“What will you do if… not?”

“Retire, like as not. I’ve no real interest in the Ascendancy anymore.”

“We all know about you and Lord Fox. Anyone will hire you, if it comes to that,” Tava says. “It’d be nice to have you around more. The Armandes are great, but no one could replace you.”

Rathi sighs and rubs his temples. He can feel the chalk he’s just smeared on his face, but he doesn’t mind enough to wipe it off. “I suppose that’s what he was thinking.”

Tava sits on a chair near the kolto tank, but pointedly doesn’t look at it. He watches Rathi with some interest for ten minutes before leaning forward. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I haven’t eaten in a few hours. You could bring me some food, spare me the lecture from Mardh.”

\---

The amulet is a sinister, acid-green crystal bound in a cage of gold wire. Rathi lowers his arms into the kolto and carefully secures it around the neck. His breath shudders in his chest when he pulls his arms back. He snatches up a towel and wipes his arms off even as he watches the kolto levels drop.

Oct is the only other witness. Mardh is too important to lose in the event of a catastrophic failure of the plan. Oct is done up in full Sith regalia with dangling jewellery, flowing robes, a bone-white mask and enough illusions to fill every circus on Dromund Kaas.

They stand shoulder to shoulder, neither flinching when Fox’s body hits the side of the tank with a loud _thunk_ when the kolto level drops low enough that he’s no longer suspended. They say nothing as the amulet comes to life and engulfs the body in a sickly green aura. Rathi’s nostrils flare when one pale hand comes up and slams into the glass. The eyes open and the irises are visibly orange, even with the green light.

“What have you done?” Faximil says with a thousand voices.

“Saved your ungrateful hide,” Oct says.

“Repaid the favor,” Rathi says. His emotions are held solidly frozen. Anything can happen. There’s no guarantee that Faximil will live more than a moment, that Sybil won’t be ready with her own ritual, that this ritual will even work.

Without further words, Rathi and Oct separate, leaving the ritual circle in Faximil’s sight.

Faximil’s lip curls and a hungry expression consumes his face. He makes a fist and the tank’s glass shatters into tiny shards that cascade across the quarantine room. Though he’s only wearing a thin pair of hospital pants, Faximil stalks out of the ruined tank like the perfect predator, glass scattering out from under his feet as if in terror. He lifts his hand and the ritual circle flares to life in a brilliant flash of red light that clashes with the green glow from the amulet. When he reaches the edge of the circle, he holds his left palm out to Rathi.

“It’s time.”

Rathi sets the Faximil’s lightsaber in his palm, but the Sith tosses it aside and grabs Rathi’s wrist. Faximil turns the full power of his orange gaze on Rathi and there’s compulsion in his voice when he speaks. “You’re helping.”

Without fear, Rathi says, “As if you could stop me.”

Faximil grins then, a horrible expression of madness that’s all teeth and blown-out pupils. “I chose well with you.”

“ _I_ found _you,_ Sith,” Rathi says, half to keep his mind off the way the crystals in his chest are suddenly burning with piercing red light that shows through his uniform.

“Did you?” Faximil doesn’t seem to expect an answer because he turns back to the circle and raises his empty right hand. He chants then, some combination of Ancient Sith and a rumbling, guttural language that shouldn’t be possible from human lips. The skin on the palm of Faximil’s hand splits open and the blood that explodes out seems to catch fire in the air.

Rathi closes his eyes and lets the power wash through him.


	4. Thankful

Faximil collapses the moment the ritual is over. If Rathi hadn’t already been holding him, he wouldn’t have reacted fast enough to catch him. Carefully, Rathi lowers him to the floor and a wave of tension falls off his back when the eyes looking up at him are clear, if still yellow. Rathi brushes back a lock of hair that’s dry, though it shouldn’t be. “Welcome back, dear heart.”

“I told you I’d make it right,” Fox says. His voice is weak and tired, but normal and  _ human. _

Though he’s tempted to slap him, Rathi holds back. “You said everything would be right when I woke up. Things were  _ decidedly _ not right when I woke up, so don’t give me that grin as if I should thank you.”

Fox beams up at him and Rathi is hard pressed not to lean in and kiss the man senseless. Thankfully, Oct interrupts before they can start anything unadvisable.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth Sa’alle,” Oct says with a loud, affected scoff.

“Don’t think we’re not going to talk about this, Oct. I never would have consented to whatever you had to do to make this thing.” Fox yanks the amulet until the clasp breaks and tosses it vaguely in Oct’s direction.

“If you feel so strongly about it, perhaps next time you won’t be comatose when decisions need to be made.” Oct tucks the amulet deep into one his pockets and steps over just so he can loom over Fox. 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Fox says, unaffected by the intimidation tactics.

Oct gives an audible sniff before turning his back on them and stalking towards the exit. “Don’t forget that I have already laid claim on taking your life.”

Fox makes a rude gesture at Oct’s back and then turns his full attention back to Rathi, who merely gives him a blank look. This just makes Fox grin up at him. “I think it’s time to go home.”

“Not a chance. The staff nearly had a brawl trying to determine who would oversee your recovery. You started this circus; you had best end it.”

\---

It’s very late, or rather early. The floor to ceiling windows are still dark and the lights are dim, but neither Fox nor Rathi wants to sleep. Their legs are tangled together and they’re lying in the center of their bed. Neither is strictly recovered enough for sex, but they hadn’t cared about that, either.

Fox touches the bottom hem of Rathi’s shirt. It’s a thin, black thing made of synthetic fiber and not something he ever wore before. “Is it really so bad?”

Rathi rolls his eyes and sighs before pulling the fabric up. “They  _ glow _ when I’m trying to sleep. I have ash-dusted  _ nightlights _ implanted in my chest.”

Fox chuckles and gently runs his hand over the crystals. “Sorry. I didn’t have a lot of options. I wasn’t even sure it would work.”

Rathi grabs Fox’s wrist tightly enough to hurt. “You nearly killed yourself on a guess?”

“I was already dying. You can’t point at me now and say I survived because I  _ never _ would have agreed to let Oct kill those people for me. I explicitly told him  _ not _ to. If I’d failed, neither of us would be here to chide me.”

“That’s not the point, Sa’alle. It was dangerous and foolish and part of an established pattern of behavior from you. Oct bought us some time, but if you don’t stop this, you’re going to squander it.”

“Home was protected. My responsibilities were seen to. I was  _ prepared _ to die. In my attempt, either you would have lived or nothing would have been worse. I only survived Sybil’s ritual  _ because _ I had drained all of my Life Force, so if we’re trying to look at this objectively, I made the correct decision!”

The crystals flare to life with Fox’s shout and they both jump. Fox pulls Rathi’s shirt back down and pulls him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,  _ cyare. _ I wish I hadn’t let her hurt you. I wish I hadn’t had to… to do this to you, but those are just the consequences of my Affliction.”

Rathi strokes Fox’s braid and holds him close. “We need to find a solution for Sybil, dear heart. I know you love her, but I won’t suffer all of this for nothing.”

“When things settle, we’ll see what the options are. Killing her won’t take me out of danger. Her cult won’t take it lying down.”

“Then we’ll slaughter all of the human supremacist scum and send them back to the Void where they belong,” Rathi says.

\---

Recovery is slow for both of them. Even though Rathi is able to walk, two weeks in a kolto tank and three more grieving left him weak and unsteady. He’s fine doing his physical therapy on his own, but he has to drag Fox to see the doctor, or his lover would just bury himself in work and use his Affliction to cover for his muscular weakness. So he suffers Fox’s whining and then takes him to lunch with Tava after.

“So you’re going back to Imperial space, soon?” Tava asks over his bright pink curry.

“Tomorrow,” Fox says between bites.

“I… Oh. I didn’t realize it was  _ that  _ soon.” Tava stirs up his curry with his rice, flipping the mixture over and around instead of eating it.

“Ivan can only mask our location for so long. If anyone knew how much time we spent here… We can’t risk an investigation. There are too many engagements Rathi and I have both cancelled already.” Under the table, Fox puts his left hand on Rathi’s leg and gives him a squeeze that’s supposed to be reassuring.

Tava looks away from them and clears his throat. “Speaking of engagements, Captain Mardh had me fabricate some messages to Mother and Father while you were in the tank.”

Rathi scoffs and pointedly gives his lunch most of his attention. “What could they have possibly sent that required any kind of timely response?”

“Engagement proposals?” Tava says, though it comes out sounding like a question. “I didn’t think they knew about you and Lord Fox, but I assumed they weren’t still trying to marry you off.”

“Why not?”

Confused, Tava gestures between the two of them. “You’re obviously not going to accept any offer.”

“I don’t know why you’d think that. I’m still heir apparent of House Arimo and a representative of the Ascendancy. There’s an image to uphold.” Rathi glances at Fox and they trade shrugs.

“But you love each other!”

“Tava, I’m glad you’re upset because that means Mother and Father weren’t able to indoctrinate you in the ways of the Ascendancy, and politics in general, but marriage means less than nothing in terms of our relationship. Even before I met Fox, I had no intention of ever touching my wife. I’m rather not inclined to women, in case you forgot.”

The blush on Tava’s cheeks makes his skin look an odd purple. He turns his plea to Fox. “It really doesn’t bother you? The idea of Brother marrying someone else?”

Fox snorts. “Unless he’s calling someone  _ riduur _ it’s no concern of mine and even then, I could be persuaded, assuming he’s worth having.”

“Reedoor?”

Rathi rolls his eyes. “It’s a Mandalorian thing, don’t let him fill your head with fancies and glitter.”

“Well… As long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are another 4 AU chapters from the timeline when Fox meets Hound. They're so thematically different, however, that I'm putting them in a separate story.


End file.
